


Stitching my lips up again

by Atalto



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Phone Calls, Stressed Kolivan (Voltron), They’re all trying their hardest, also, happy birthday blob!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 09:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14329173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atalto/pseuds/Atalto
Summary: War is slow, no matter what Lance wants to believe. It’s slow, and it’s stressful, and all Lance really wants right now is a cuddle, or at least, some reassuring words.Instead, Kolivan is late, and less than comforting.





	Stitching my lips up again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wajjs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wajjs/gifts).



> Hello all!
> 
> A smol present for my buddy Blob! I hope u had a good birthday, and I’m so sorry this is v v v late.  
> I hope it’s angsty enough for your heartbreaking tastes :O  
> Also, first time writing Kolivance! And it’s v fun tbh, I’ll have to write some more 
> 
> Enjoy!

It has been a Varga since Lance knew the Blades had returned from their mission.  
Or at least, it has been a Varga since Keith called the castle to send over the information that they had retrieved.  
So, they might have been back for longer; Keith never usually rang immediately. He had to get changed, sort out his injuries, find out of what they had discovered was actually useful before he sent it over. God knows how long he, and the rest of the team, had actually been back.

Waiting is driving him mad as he shifts to lean back on the bed. It’s quiet in his bedroom, too quiet, but he’d already annoyed Hunk.  
And Pidge.  
And Allura.  
And at this point, was scared to even talk to Shiro.  
So he is alone, for all intents and purposes, waiting on information he’s not sure will ever come.  
He sighs, flopping back on the pillows.

Sure, he knew dating a Blade was going to be hard, but not _this_ hard.

For what feels like the millionth time, Lance reaches for the communicator on the bedside table, pulling back once he feels the smooth alien screen under his fingers. The light from the screen hurts his eyes at first, but he adjusts quickly, and-

No missed calls.  
No missed messages.  
Nothing at all.

He groaned, dropping the communicator on the bed.  
It didn’t even bounce properly.

A part of him, the quieter, rational part, thinks that his partner has every right to forget to tell him stuff. It’s to be expected; he knows from experience that it’s easy to forget stuff in the heat of battle, lost in the torrent of orders and gunshots and explosions. He’s done it too many times to count, so really, he can’t blame him.

The other half perks up, the arrogant half that’s currently keeping him holed up in his room thanks to a mixture of spite and pettiness, and instantly decides to argue. If Lance meant to him what he swore time and time again Lance meant to him, then he would call, message, tell Keith to pass on a note, anything.  
Anything except keep him in radio silence for hours after one of the most dangerous missions the Blade had performed in a while.

  
_You’re not supposed to forget about your boyfriend_ , Lance’s Brain whines, and he hums in some distracted agreement.  
He would kill for a cuddle right now.

He checks the communicator again, and it’s the same as always.  
There’s no change. Just the flat, glowing magenta that he’s grown used to by now. It’s burnt into his brain, the colour he sees when he closes his eyes to sigh again.

Just as he rolls over, there’s a knock at the door, and he sits up immediately.  
The blackout is magenta-tinged, but he focused enough to see the door open, white Altean light flooding the room, oceans of brightness pushing back against the dull sand he kind of feels like he’s drowning in. It hurts his eyes at first - he didn’t realise he’d been wallowing in the dark for that long - but it passes quickly, or, at least, quick enough.  
The communicator is shoved under the pillow, hidden like pirate treasure in black sand, when the figure in the doorway is nowhere near tall enough.

“Lance?” The voice from the door says, and black mixes with yellow as Hunk awkwardly edges his way into room, “you okay bud?”

  
“Yeah,” Lance replies, fixing a tired grin as Hunk frowns in the doorway, “just, I dunno’, tired.”

  
Hunk nods in understanding, face twisting in sympathy. They’ve all been feeling the strain recently, the surprising strain of not being able to do anything, being forced to sit tight as they zip around the universe. They’re chasing information that the Blade have to get for them before they can strike, and even their covert operations aren’t turning up much.  
“I know dude, I am as well,” Hunk admits with a wry laugh, shuffling awkwardly on the spot, “I- I wanted to apologise, y’know, for snapping earlier-?”

  
“Dude, it’s fine,” Lance interjects, and he means it, he really does; they’re all stressed, and Hunk doesn’t deal with his stress well at the best of times.

  
“As long as you’re sure.”

  
Lance nods, and Hunk’s face lifts immediately. Of course he would be worried about what Lance thought of him - they were friends, of course.

  
“I- um, I’m gonna’ do dinner soon,” Hunk says, changing the subject with a grin, “I think the others want to apologise too- we need a group apology session or something.”

  
“Sounds good buddy,” Lance agrees happily, and Hunk nods, jogging over to squeeze Lance tightly around the shoulders. Then he bustles off, muttering under his breath about head-holes and circle time.

He falls back against his bed again, somehow feeling even more drained than he did before. He loved Hunk, always has, but his timing was never great.  
He loves his team, loves them dearly, but man, he needs to find space counsellors for them.

Then he hears a buzzing under his pillow.

With an urgency he didn’t realise he had, he dives to retrieve the communicator, whipping it out from under the pillow. The screen has changed, still magenta, but now featuring bold glowing Galran letters that he can’t read but recognises.

Finally, after waiting in the dark for a Varga and pissing off most of his friends, Kolivan is calling.

But he does that thing that Veronica used to do after fights with her girlfriend; wait to answer, just hold off on pressing accept rather than immediately like that love-starved part of him wants to do.  
So he counts in time with the buzzes.  
1-  
2-  
3-  
4-  
5-

He presses accept.

The screen flickers for a second, cutting from magenta to black, before spitting up a grainy image of the Blade’s formidable leader. His signature sternness is there, until Lance sees the glow that indicates his camera is on too, and he melts.  
“Starlight,” he starts, smiling through the simple pet name, and Lance-

Lance _soars_.

“Koli,” he replies breathlessly, and that soft, loving part of his brain kicks and overrides every precious part that was angry, rationally or not, and he hates it, “how was it?”

  
“Far from expected,” Kolivan replies shortly, smile falling from his face, and shuffles in the camera; Lance can’t tell if he’s sitting or lying down, but he doesn’t seem to be comfortable.  
Lance frowns. That’s never good.

“Why not?”

  
There’s a pause, a beat, and Kolivan sighs, pursing his lips and tilting his head away. “We didn’t find anything,” he admits, and Lance can hear the disappointment in his voice, “we risked the lives of several of our best agents for little reward.”

  
“I guess that’s just how it is sometimes,” Lance suggests with a shrug, rolling over until he’s lying on his side, and Kolivan laughs wryly as he entertains the idea.

  
“If only it was that simple, starlight.”

So he- he was annoyed? He was fed up with having so little infomation?  
None of them seemed great reasons for not ringing him in time, and Lance tries his hardest not to be bitter.

“Well, what did you find out?” He asks, some vague attempt at lightening the mood, but Kolivan just grimaces and frowns deeply.

  
“Little,” he snaps, and, intentionally or not, Lance is taken back, “nothing we didn’t already know.”

  
“Annoying, huh?”

  
Kolivan nods sagely. “Indeed, it is what your green paladin would call a ‘total bummer’.”

  
The slang sounds so weird in Kolivan’s voice, and Lance can’t help but laugh. It’s loud at first, before he clamps a hand over his mouth, but the noise was worth the smile that begins to spread over the Galran’s face. Lips upturn to reveal fangs that Lance just wants to reach through the screen and kiss, and the camera shakes as he leans back in what Lance can now make out as a chair.

“So,” Lance starts, aware of the flirtatious grin he let’s spread across his face, “when are you next coming over?”

  
“And why’s that, Starlight?” Kolivan replies with a quirk of his eyebrow, or whatever the Galran equivalent was called, and the smile begins to fall from his face again.

Darn his boyfriend for playing so hard to get.

But Lance plays along, gasping in mock offence. “Am I not allowed to want to see my boyfriend?” He asks as what he hopes is a joke, but Kolivan’s mouth just twists again.

  
“It might be a while,” he informs, voice serious, and Lance is suddenly aware of the bottom dropping away from his stomach, “I’m afraid we have little time to spare on frivolities at the moment.”

 _Frivolities?_  
Was that what this was? _A frivolity?_

Part of him would love to argue the point, shout his seriousness from the rooftops. Grab Red from the hanger and zip over, kiss the Galran into agreement and then ditch, if that’s what it’ll take to prove he’s serious.

Instead, he just kind of dissolves against the bed, like salt being taken in by the black sand.

“Alright,” Lance replies, hoping he at least sounded as crestfallen as he felt, “if that’s what you think-“

  
“Starlight, wait,” Kolivan interjects, and for a split second, Lance sees apology in golden eyes, lava laced with an all-healing antidote, “I believe that translated wrong.”

Oh, of _course_ it did.

“So, what did you mean to say?”

  
“I meant that we don’t get personal time at the moment,” Kolivan explains, and the phrase sounds clunky even to Lance, the king of clunky catchphrases, “unfortunately I have little time for anyone. I didn’t intent to single you out, and for that, I apologise.”

That was a little better, at least, a slightly less bitter pill for Lance to swallow, but it still sits angrily in his gut, a riptide that sits and gurgles unhappily in the background.

“It’s okay.” Lance shakes his head, flashing Kolivan a grin, and he sees him relax as his shoulders finally begin to fall back to a normal level. “Just another reason to finish this war quickly.”

  
Another sage nod. “Once we have the time,” Kolivan starts, and Lance knows he’s about to start with the dreaming that he doesn’t allow himself much, “I’ll give you all that I should be giving you currently. I’m aware I’m not living up to human courting standards-“

  
“And I’m still here?” Lance points out, as if it was some obvious point, “it gives me time to brush up on my Galran dating tips, don’t sweat Koli.”

  
Kolivan smiles again, but it’s a smaller one, softer and rarer, and there’s a warmth in Lance’s bones that wasn’t there before.  
“You’re doing wonderfully, Starlight,” he confirms, and Lance’s stomach flip-flops, but happily this time, “just a little longer. Then we can all the time in the universe.”

He holds two gloved fingers up to his lips, a kiss for when they can’t be together, and Lance mirrors it with a breathy laugh.

Despite it all, there’s a darkness at the back of his mind that he can’t sway, that blurs and swirls and rages.

There’s a call from off-screen that kind of sounds like Keith if Lance focuses hard enough, and Kolivan whips his hand away as he straightens his posture, turning from lover to leader in the blink of an eye.

Lance, once again, feels like the sad secret, hidden away in space-skype and brief glances across tables.

“I’m afraid something has arisen,” Kolivan confirms, and Lance nods in understanding. After all, he’s only the leader of one of the largest rebel factions in the universe; its only natural he’s busy.

Or at least, that’s what Lance tells himself.

“It’s okay,” Lance says with a shrug, “Hunk wants to do dinner soon, I really should go see if he’s okay.”

Kolivan rose to his feet, still holding the communicator to his face. “Don’t let me keep you.”

If I had my way, Lance thinks, I’d be talking to you for days.

“I won’t.”

“We’ll talk again soon, Starlight,” he says, as if he had been reading Lance’s mind, “I love you.”

They’ve been dating for months, and Lance still gets goosebumps every time those words pass his lips.

“ _Vrepknit_ ,” Lance replies with a shaky grin. It feels weird, swirling the unfamiliar Galran word around his mouth, but it’s worth it to see Kolivan light up.

He pressed his fingers to his lips one more time, barely giving Lance time to reply before the screen flicks back to magenta.

The room feels empty again.

With a sigh, Lance lets the communicator drop onto his chest, flopping one arm lazily over his eyes.  
He loves Kolivan, more than he’s ever loved anyone, or anything, and they’re dedicated enough to have a distant, but working relationship.  
But every time he clicks off, the rift in Lance’s gut empties again, starting the torment that is silenced by each conversation.

He aches.  
Deeply.

Like Starlight, he guesses.  
Bright if anyone looks, but he feels like he’s spitting out energy constantly.

And it’s not as if Kolivan is giving him anything to fuse.

He should go visit Hunk.

Anything to take his mind off the Galran leader who seems to be doing all he can to keep at arms length.

 _Quiznak_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank u for reading, and I hope y’all enjoyed <3


End file.
